


Things Unspoken

by ThePhantomJoke



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePhantomJoke/pseuds/ThePhantomJoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick and Damian share a moment alone in the manor while Damian plays the piano. This is a very in-depth look at their relationship without spelling everything out for the reader. Much of it has to be inferred, but it's clear that something's there under the surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something that reflected their relationship better. Also this song was used as the inspiration, and referenced in the fic. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G1vWry68_dE Feel free to listen along while you read, it's a long piano piece that shouldn't be distracting.

The sound floated through the manor, soft in its haunting melody. Dick followed without a thought, and his feet moved of their own accord. Up and up the large grand staircase, through sets of doors until finally he saw the source. The youngest teen was seated at the grand piano. It wasn’t used often, even if this one was in tune, unlike the one they used as an entrance to the cave.

 

Long slender fingers moved gracefully across the keys, flitting across each one as the song picked up its pace. The boy was seated comfortably, he looked absorbed in the music; in a song that Dick couldn’t remember hearing before. Perhaps the teen had composed it, the discovery would be far from shocking, at least to the eldest of the brothers.

 

The older man stood by the entrance to the room, blue eyes stuck on the boy’s hands. Small scars littered those digits, from being Robin or something else entirely, Dick wasn’t sure. Scars covered the thin skin stretched around his knuckles, old and faded with age that Damian should not possess. A few even stretched between the webbing of thumb and forefinger. Even if the ex-mentor could not see from this angle, he knew the boy’s palms held their share as well. His hands moved so fluidly, it was beautiful to watch, as much so as the song itself.

 

They both knew of the other’s presence, were as aware of it as one would be their own breathing. It wasn’t shocking when Damian finally addressed it, without bothering to turn and face him. “What is it?” His voice was soft, it did not hold the edge it normally did, like he had lowered his guard for the moment.

 

“Nothing, just heard you down there, and came to listen.” The boys fell silent, the music filled it. Damian’s hands had never faltered, even with the admission. Perhaps Damian expected the silence not to last, or maybe it was just the song itself. The tempo increased slightly, like a racing heart, expectant and waiting. Though for what, Dick wouldn’t know; not unless he chose to break this peace between them.

 

He muffled the sounds of his bare feet shuffling forward, and Dick rested his hands on Damian’s shoulders. The muscles there tensed and relaxed under the weight of his hands, but they never stopped moving. The song reached a crescendo, fingertips moved almost dancing across the ebony and ivory keys. Such opulence. When Dick had been younger he had been so nervous to touch things in the manor, scared of breaking the items with so much value. His hands rested now on the thing with the most.

 

He considered breaking their silence, but words were hard to find, especially as the song neared its inevitable end. Instead he remained still, the muscles under his touch tensed and relaxed, stretched with the small motions it took to move his hands. The last few notes were sad, as though what they had anticipated wasn’t going to come at all.

 

A small sigh pulled from the teen under him, and the hands fell into his lap, “I doubt you came just to listen.” The tone was accusing now, Damian always sought the others’ hidden agenda; even if there was none, like now.

 

“You doubt me a lot.” A wry smile tugged at the acrobat’s lips and he pressed them into Damian’s hair. There was no gel today, just the soft scent of shampoo. A pause before he peeled back, not wishing to wear out the stoic boy with his constant affections.

“What was it called?” Damian turned his head, brow raising slightly, as if he hadn’t expected the question, or maybe it was the cryptic answer Dick had given.

 

“The Approaching Night, by Philip Wesley.” An answer to his earlier unspoken question, and Dick nodded, hands gliding across the tense muscle, it was his way of speaking without asking at all, relax. Damian did, too accustomed to his ex-mentor’s touches to the hidden meaning in them, and even when there was one at all. His gaze turned away from the acrobat, back to the keys, and Dick prompted gently with his voice this time, “Another?”

 

“What do you wish me to play?”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

A stiff nod, and a moment of silence, something comfortable, despite the lack of music and their voices. Finally the fingers began to play once more, the sound was darker than he’d anticipated. The acrobat knew this one at least, even if it was played in C Minor. “Chopin, Dami?”

 

A smile, and Damian cocked his head slightly. Dick’s hands fell to the boy’s sides, stroked idly and his head found the small notch of space Damian gave wordlessly, between his neck and shoulder. Dick pressed his lips to the morose teen’s neck, offered the slight comfort, aware of the boundaries he ignored with the act.

 

Their relationship was a complicated one, bound by rules, orders, by words and titles. Brothers, Mentor and Student, Partners, Friends. Too many things, and ones that couldn’t be pushed away and forgotten. The song shifted once more, about halfway through, this was definitely improvisation. “Am I distracting you?” The chapped lips moved against the slim column of Damian’s throat, and he felt the goosebumps as if they were his own, the slight stutter in beat and of Damian’s pulse under his lips. Yes. He was.

 

“No.” The lie hung between them, and Dick’s wandering fingers settled across Damian’s ribcage, touched the scars covered by layers of silk. He didn’t have the heart to call the boy on the lie, merely made a soft sound of agreement, whether it was with the lie or the unspoken desire to leave it as it is was up for interpretation.

 

Dick had always wanted to learn how to play the piano, but he knew he much preferred watching Damian at the moment, he hadn’t had the patience to truly be an accomplished pianist. Seeming to uncover his thoughts, the boy in his hands spoke softly, “Join me, I’m not playing anything worthwhile.”

 

“You could, if you wanted…”

 

“I do not.”

 

The clipped response made Dick’s fingers wander over the boy’s sides once more, stroking and soothing the frazzled teen with the touch. It was fleeting as he pulled his warmth from the teen, and settled into the space Damian made beside him instead. Dick sat stiffly. Damian had taken the left side, he set up a simple rhythm without preamble, and Dick waited for the shift before joining into the duet, his own hands played a complementary piece, something that lifted the song audibly with the lighter notes.

 

Neither of the boys spoke, it was better that way, as they played together in silence, able to pick up the few notes added in, to anticipate when the other changed their piece. It went on for a while, before Damian’s hands stilled above the keys entirely. Dick’s reached instinctively, fingers wrapped around the boy’s wrists and rubbed gently. The question about to come died in his throat, eyes flicked across Damian’s too open expression. Too vulnerable, too much. This had been too much. He had frozen as well, tongue licked across his lips to stall even when Damian’s stormy blue eyes traced the movement, mirroring it unconsciously.

 

Dick released the hand, offered a small smile, “We should do this again, Little D.” It felt odd, even if it sounded normal, both in tone and the words themselves. It was what he should have said. So he did, even if it wasn’t what he wanted to say at all.

 

The taller of the pair of boys rose, released the wrist and headed for the door. He made a hasty retreat, though his gait was normal.

 

“Grayson.”

 

Damian’s voice stilled him as he approached the door, and he glanced back, smile plastered to his face as he waited for whatever it was Damian was about to say. A pause, and Damian shook his head, signalling this thought wouldn’t be spoken.

Seconds later, Damian’s hands twitched before the teen stood and exited himself. Nothing was keeping him in the room now. Glancing back to the piano, and the only “witness” to what occurred, he shut the doors behind him with a click, locking the memory away with the room.


End file.
